


Praised by My Leader

by cheslocked, Lowkey_Satan



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheslocked/pseuds/cheslocked, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lowkey_Satan/pseuds/Lowkey_Satan
Summary: "...In times like this, only two kinds of people walked the streets: victims and attackers. Sometimes, the latter was not even human; the creature solely seemed to be so. Nonetheless, appearances did not make one any less akin—for it is blood that it fed on." Clemente is a new vampire. He's not quite acquainted with the vampire world itself but when he meets Lysander, the leader of the local coven, he has to face it like never before. He does, as well, take a certain liking to his leader. Luna, his best friend, is not about to let him stay single for too long. tl;drGay vampires *INSPIRED BY A TUMBLR POST ABOUT CUTE VAMPIRES http://vampyrebats.tumblr.com/post/149726692071/cute-vampires-tho *





	1. Chapter 1

The night was silent. Mist enveloped the numerous buildings of Québec city. The blur, however, did not stop people from lurking in the shadows. Nothing, to be true, not even the cold temperature of midnight in autumn, could refrain them. Night had always been—and would always be—the time of crime.

In times like this, only two kinds of people walked the streets: victims and attackers. Sometimes, the latter was not even human; the creature solely _seemed_ to be so. Nonetheless, appearances did not make one any less akin—for it is blood that it fed on.

The media had portrayed them as vile, murderous and violent. Most were, in fact, close to such a description. On the other hand, many younglings had a hard time adhering to those expectations, as they were confused as to what they needed to do to survive at all. Some were even reluctant to drink a human’s blood. It was not because they disliked the idea—rather, it was because they were afraid. These few vampires desired not be considered monsters.

One, for example, may try and cover his bite mark, in order not to reveal he’d been bitten and was no longer human. He may, too, bite into his own lip on accident because he was unused to bearing fangs. Sometimes, he feared going out in the sun, even though he forever remained inside his home during daytime. He had, as well, panicked at the thought of sleeping in a coffin, an unappealing idea to him. He had prohibited garlic within his dwelling. He did not dare touch a piece of wood, for he feared splinters, as he thought them alike wooden stakes, only smaller.

Nobody knew of his true nature. Not even his best friend, Luna. She had always been supportive of him but he knew not how to reveal his lack of humanity to her. He was, to her, the cute little Clemente, the guy she had vowed so long ago to forever take care of. When he was bitten, he knew she couldn’t do so forever; she wouldn’t live through eternity as he would, after all. All he knew was that he would tell her eventually. He had already shared every other secret of his to her. Albeit, this one was bigger than any other—more than he had bargained for.

The first person he had drank from, aside from the vampire who had turned him, was a priest. He had always despised him. The man of religion had persecuted him long before he was even turned. Men like him disliked his people—not vampires—out of unjustified disgust. He preached hatred, claiming it was “the word of God”. His words had contaminated the minds of others. For that, Clemente put him to death. He was against the idea of killing but he was hungry; he couldn’t stop himself. If he could either end the life of an innocent person or the one of a man of hate, he chose the latter without giving him the benefit of doubt.

The taste of blood hadn’t met his mouth in days. No matter how bad he tried to chase the thought away, it obsessed him: he needed it bad. He missed the slight aroma that reminded him of iron, the warmth of the red fluid, the relief he got from indulging hemoglobin…he missed it all. Though he was ever so hesitant to bring death to a human, it was all that could satisfy his needs.

He looked up at the nighttime sky to distract himself. If anything could put him at ease, it was stargazing. Nothing could appease him like admiring the shining constellations. They fascinated him. In hardship, he exited his abode and stared at the stars. In this action, he found comfort anew.

He was, although, often disrupted by his ringtone. Luna may have been human but it didn’t make her any less a night owl. She was an insomniac, as he was now that he’d been turned. Knowing the boy was up at night, she would frequently call him to share random thoughts and ideas. It made him happy to think he was the first person she would think of at night. While some would think of this act as romantic, it was purely a friendly gesture.

As he had expected, she had called this time around again. He was quick to pick up the phone when he had heard the three familiar notes. He answered in a relaxed tone, “Luna?”

“Hey! What’s up?” the girl chirped, sounding hardly sleepy at all.

He smiled. “Nothing much. You?”

“Same here,” she sighed. “Wanna meet up? I’m so bored.”

“I’m already out. Come meet me in front of the City Hall,” he replied.

“Alright then! Be here in ten.” With that, she hung up.

Clemente waited for his friend in patience. He kept looking at the sky for a moment that seemed timeless. He observed the constellations of Cassiopeia, Lyra, Hercules and many others with names unknown to him. Their light shone down upon his swarthy skin. His unmatched green and blue eyes took in their beauty with unequalled wonder. He smiled innocently, revealing his small fangs. The teenager couldn’t possibly hide it: he was in complete and utter awe. Then again, who should he hide it from?

Soon enough, he heard his name being called out. His unnaturally good hearing spotted the voice’s owner meters away; Luna was running to him. He did the same. He caught up to her in record time and pulled her in for a tighter-than-average hug.

The girl squirmed. “Clemente, I…can’t… _breathe_!”

He loosened his grip around the taller being and looked up into her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to squeeze you too hard.”

“It’s okay,” she giggled, gently petting his long black hair. “You’re surprisingly strong but such a tiny boy, I keep forgetting it.”

“Shut up, I’m not tiny,” he argued and pulled away.

She snorted. “Oh, right. You’re ‘ _still growing_ ’.”

He looked down at his feet. “I doubt that.” Because of what he had become, there was no aging for him, much less growth.

“Why is that? I mean, aren’t you the one who kept telling me some guys grow until they’re 25?” she teased him.

“I gave up,” he mumbled.

The blonde shook her head. “You don’t have to. There’s still hope, you know?”

“Hope’s futile at this point,” he claimed.

She frowned. “Clemente, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he questioned.

“I don’t know, I just…had a feeling, that’s all.” She put an arm around him. “Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure,” he accepted, nodding slightly.

The pair walked slowly in the misty streets, talking about nothing and everything. Any subject, from the Cold War to J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter” series, was good enough for them. They discussed people, they discussed things. There were giggles, bad puns, shrieks and theories about whether or not dragons existed. He made sure they didn’t end up on the topic of vampires. Anything was better to babble about than that.

Luna flinched. “Ouch, goddammit!”

He halted their walk and turned his head to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just bit my lip,” she informed him and pointed at a small incision she’d made on accident. “Look!”

The vampire couldn’t tear his eyes off of the little hole. A narrow trail of blood flowed from it. No matter how hard he tried to look away, he failed miserably. He was entirely focused on the red liquid. It pained him to think he was craving blood to the point where he stared at his best friend’s. Nevertheless, he deemed hurting Luna out of the question.

He forced his eyes shut for a few seconds then spoke up again, “Do you, uh…need a tissue?”

“Ah, yes! That’d be great,” she answered.

She thanked him after receiving the supply. She held it on her bleeding lip until the flow had stopped. Clemente finally found relief then and stopped working himself up over it. The walk resumed as if nothing had happened. They conversed happily again, exploring the streets of Old Québec.

Unfortunately, they were interrupted by the ringing of Luna’s phone. She let out a groan as she glanced at the caller ID.

“Who is it?” Clemente queried.

“My mom. I gotta pick it up, sorry,” she responded and answered the call. “Hey, mom.”

The short boy was unsure as to what her mother was telling her but it was loud. Perhaps she was grounding her?

“Okay, okay! I get it, just don’t yell at me! I won’t take too long, promise,” his female counterpart grunted before hanging up. She heaved a sigh and crossed her arms in apparent annoyance.

He swallowed. “What’s going on?”

“My mom wants me to go back home. I think I’m gonna get punished for going out at night, too,” she growled then muttered, “Dammit.”

“So that means you have to go?” he asked, pouting.

“Yep,” she uttered in disappointment.

The young male looked at the ground. “I see.”

Luna hugged him before adding, “I’ll call you later, okay?”

He gave a simple nod as an answer.

“Alright then! See you!”

She went off in a hurry after waving at him, consequently leaving him alone in the darkness of the night. He contemplated his options: either he went back home too or he stayed downtown. He eventually settled for the second choice…temporarily, anyway. He knew he couldn’t be outside when the sun would rise.

The teenager continued walking, now slower out of sudden loneliness. He wished his best friend would have remained in his company, though he had learned from her long ago that there was absolutely no going against one’s over-protective mother. Albeit, he didn’t quite understand what it was like to receive motherly love, or have someone to provide it in the first place.

Clemente was gripped by the arm out of the blue. He tried to escape but his attacker was too forceful; he was certainly not about to let go of him. He was dragged into a dark alley and shoved onto a wall. The man taking hold of him went for his neck—it was only then that the poor boy understood what was happening.

He laughed nervously. “Woah, there! You’re not gonna get fed much with _my_ blood!”

Whom Clemente had identified as another vampire looked into his eyes in bewilderment. “What?”

“Look,” he confessed and revealed his own fangs. “I’m just like you!”

The taller vampire let go of him. He was panting, as if in dire need. His black eyes showed exhaustion and desperation. His dark brown hair fell messily over his pale face, like he hadn’t brushed it in days. Clemente diagnosed him with bloodthirst—one worse than his own.

There was an uncomfortable silence before the brunet addressed him. “Come with me.”

“Huh?!” Clemente was astounded by his invitation—no, his _order_. The older-looking male did not leave him any choice; he was being taken away before he even knew it.

He didn’t know it then but this vampire would turn his life around.


	2. Chapter 2: The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clemente was assaulted by another vampire, the latter brings him into the local coven's abode, an abandonned cathedral. During a conversation between the two, Clemente receives a proposal that's quite out of the ordinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: Yes, there is a character called Castiel. No, it's not Castiel from Supernatural. The name was chosen as it's an old one, which is fitting for an OLD vampire. Just wanted to say that, in order to avoid confusion!

It had been several minutes since Clemente was attacked by the older vampire, whom was now nearly dragging him, leading him somewhere he was absolutely unaware of. The small boy began to panic. What was his goal? Where were they going? Why was it so important that he should come along? So many questions ran through his mind. He was overwhelmed.

Clemente halted his walk, making the authoritarian figure stop as well. He knew his eyes were on him but wouldn’t return his confused stare. Instead, he observed the ground he stood on. His body was trembling in anguish. What was going on? It was all too sudden. He was unable to retain a cry.

His fellow frowned, appearing bewildered by his tears. He froze into place. Not sure what to do, he queried, faltering, “Are…are you…crying?”

Clemente did not respond to him, though his sobs served a good enough answer.

The other approached him with cautious yet uneasy steps. He touched his arm absentmindedly and added, “You don’t have to worry. It…it’ll be alright…I’m sure.”

The teenager was not quite reassured by his inept speech. He did, on the other hand, steal a glance from him.

The latter hesitated. “Well, uh…maybe…stop crying?”

Clemente thought it rude of him to formulate his discomfort in such a blunt way. He glared at him but remained ever so silent.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m just trying to be nice!” The seemingly young adult heaved a sigh. “Then how about this: we go there and I help you get back home afterwards. Alright?”

The primer nodded, satisfied by his offer. He started to calm down. He let himself be guided by the man. Soon enough, he realized he was being held close by his new companion. For someone with skin so cold, he sure felt warm. This, the boy thought, did not make him want to leave his embrace.

The pair stood before an old abandoned cathedral. Well, the youngster had long _thought_ it was in fact abandoned but the fact he had been led all the way to it by another, older vampire, proved him wrong. It was evidently occupied by some, perhaps even many. He knew most of his people did not live alone or with humans. ‘Most’, although, was the keyword.

The two entered the ancient Gothic building. The inside looked, as a matter of fact, much bigger than the outside. It was but an illusion, of course, though the boy felt as if he had stepped inside of the grandest castle he ever could’ve possibly fathomed. The ceiling stood far, far above his head, unreachable. The tainted glass of the windows was magnificent. The first sun rays of the dawn shone through them, projecting their shapes on the polished wooden floor, making it look like a composition of multiple breathtaking replicas of museum-worthy colourful paintings. The usual church benches had been removed, making the room seem much vaster as a result. Stairs of the same material as the floor his feet dared walk on made a passage to an upper level in the edifice, where a room, or perchance multiple rooms unknown to him existed. As for what may lay under them, it remained untold. To top it all off, every crucifix had been reduced to ashes, rendering the cathedral inhabitable for vampires.

Clemente gasped in awe. He had never been in such a beautiful place, nor had ever dreamed of being in one. A smile of admiration grew on his face. This redecorated residence was, to him, a true wonder.

Certainly he hadn’t noticed his peer staring at him from near behind. Truth be told, the man was focused entirely on him. Perchance it was because of the boy’s reaction to the decor—what was so fascinating about it? Maybe it was just himself whom had lived inside this place for too long to treat it as a work of art and his new acquaintance was right about it. Nevertheless, watching him in such a state of astonishment was pleasant. Needless to say, he was entertained by him. He did not often find himself according much important to anything in life. This, in the end, felt refreshing.

As the resident and his guest exchanged a look, a tall figure approached them. They both observed the intruder, one in slight annoyance and the other in nervousness. It was a man bearing white hair and eyes as pale, of young appearance despite this. He stared at them, seemingly feeling hostile upon seeing the newcomer.

Clemente took a chance and addressed him, “Hey, I—”

“Lysander,” the man cut him off, ignoring him completely. He walked up to the boy’s companion. “Who’s this gate-crasher?”

“This boy is not a so-called ‘gate-crasher’. I brought him here,” the man whose name the boy now knew argued.

His interlocutor frowned. “Why is that?”

“Because I’m the leader. I do whatever floats my boat,” Lysander replied, visibly irritated.

The inferior vampire scoffed at him. “A true leader does not show himself in such a physically disgraceful way, now does he?”

Lysander responded with a slap to the man’s face. “If this is the first time I reveal an unsightly physique, as I was hunting prey, I surely don’t hold a candle to the amount of times you’ve been sighted covered in dirt and human blood in social gatherings.”

“You son of a—”

“Alright, you two!” Clemente interrupted their dispute. He hesitated to go on but put his mind to it nonetheless. “Can either of you just tell me what’s going on?”

The albino glared at him, in opposition to the leader, whom looked at him calmly. The latter introduced the primer, pointing at him, “Clemente, this is Castiel. He is, well, what you may call an ‘asshole’, for a lack of a better word; you shouldn’t frequent him.”

Castiel snickered. “I sure as hell am not the only ‘asshole’ in the room.” He looked down upon Clemente and smirked. “Trust me, kid, this man is no good.”

“Shut your mouth, Castiel. Desert this room before you get on my nerves all the more,” Lysander ordered, not leaving room for further squabble.

“Fine,” the pale man sneered. “Come to me when you’ve had enough of him.” With that, he left the duo. The boy wasn’t quite sure as to whom the comment was meant for but he decided against questioning the matter. This new acquaintance’s character was enough to handle for him.

Lysander turned to Clemente. He heaved a sigh and uttered, “As you may be contemptuous of my current lack of personal hygiene, I suggest that we both head to my bedroom so I can make up for the mess you are witnessing.” Before Clemente could reply, he went on, “Do not be mistaken, I consider bodily care a crucial virtue to possess. However, I have been attacked; therefore, I shall clean away the blemishes earned from my previous quarrel.”

The boy knew not to speak much, no matter how lengthy his elder’s speech was, and settled for a simple nod.

Lysander led him to a stairway of the same material as the floor. As they escalated it one behind another, Clemente thought his new knowledge over. He had learned a few things about the older vampire—the fact that he was the coven’s leader, for instance—and met yet another of his kind. His feelings were a mix of admiration for the man he was following and of wonder about what more there was to this place and to the coven itself. How many more like him were there within the household? How did the rest of the cathedral look like? Was this the only time he’d ever be in there? Was it the first and last time Lysander and he would share each other’s time? What else awaited him? One question only, although, was related to the very second: why was Lysander bringing him along if he wanted to clean himself?

The twosome arrived before two massive, imposing black doors. The brunet pushed an ancient-looking key into the keyhole and unlocked the towering gates. As he pushed them open, Clemente beheld a vast bedroom of Gothic allure. A large four poster bed was featured nearby one of four burgundy painted walls, perfectly centered between two other that seemed to reach far, far from it. A stunning bedside table took place on its right side, three white candles on top of it with a slight and surprisingly pleasant smell of wax gently oozing from their flames. A black leather sofa was positioned next to a pair of curtains of silk, black as well, surely shielding wide windows in order to protect the room’s owner from the sunlight.

“Wait for me here,” Lysander instructed. “I won’t take much time.” He closed a smaller door behind him, one that Clemente hadn’t noticed just yet. The teenager thought it must have been a bathroom.

The onyx-haired boy directed himself to the king-sized bed hesitantly. He was uncertain as to whether it was fine or not if he lied down on it. A part of him told him not to, whereas the other compelled him to give into the temptation. The latter was much enticing; he surrendered to his impulse. He found the mattress to be the most comfortable one he’d ever had the chance to nestle in.

Minutes went by without a sign of Lysander coming back to him. Clemente wondered what could possibly take him so long but mostly he pondered over what was on the other side of the smaller door, the one that the man had closed. Had he gone to another room that was lead to by a secret hall hidden behind the wooden door? Such a building could hide many things. In any case, the question was begging to be answered; and so the boy investigated.

The young vampire opened the mysterious door without any hesitancy and came face to face with the coven’s leader. Water dripped from his hair onto his naked torso. His lack of clothing revealed strong, eye-catching muscles. His arms were beautifully brawny but what captivated Clemente most was his wet chest. Well-built, strikingly attractive, irresistible. He couldn’t help but stare.

“Missed me?” Lysander humoured him with a smirk.

His admirer looked up at his face and blushed. His half-smile made him melt. His hair, although wet, gracefully framed his astonishingly gorgeous face that was now barren from bloodstains and mud. His black eyes, staring back at his younger counterpart’s, were of the gods. Every feature of his made the other male’s jaw drop.

Realizing how long he had been staring at the man’s body, Clemente felt his own face turn redder than it already was. Flustered as he was, he faltered, “I’m so, so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to walk in on you, uh…shirtless! I…I didn’t intend that, no! I didn’t! Don’t be mistaken. It’s all my fault, pardon me please! I didn’t mean to! I, uh…”

“There is no need to get so worked up about it, boy,” Lysander reassured him, somehow not paying attention to his discusser’s reddened cheeks. “While we’re still speaking, may I learn your name?”

Clemente gathered in shock that he hadn’t yet introduced himself to him. “My name’s Clemente,” he informed him in a shy manner.

“Clemente…that is a most melodious name. I like it,” the man declared.

He gave a little smile. “I’m glad you do.”

Lysander, knowing his cadet had overheard his name earlier on, did not bother presenting himself. On another note, he queried, “I have not ever had the chance to make your acquaintance in the past, so I am guessing you have not been one of our kind for much long…but how long exactly?”

“A few months, at most,” the smaller male told him and let out a sigh full of grief. “I’m new to all of this: drinking blood, having fangs, not being able to go out when it’s sunny, being nocturnal…and everything else. All that…it’s tough, you know? I’m not used to it.”

As he dried himself with the help of one of numerous white towels, the listener made him an offer, “If it is of such difficulty, then why not join my coven and stay here with me?”

Clemente’s eyes grew wider upon his words. “You mean you want me to stay with you and the other vampires? To be part of your group? To…live here?”

“No, I meant I want you to hoard crucifixes and garlic,” the proposer intoned sarcastically. “Yes, silly, I am inviting you to stay here and be one of us! What else could I possibly mean?”

“Sorry, I’m not very bright,” the boy conceded.

After a short uncomfortable moment of silence, Lysander questioned him, “So, what will it be?”

His fellow dithered. “I…I don’t think I can answer that now. It’s too early.”

“Take your time then. We have all eternity, don’t we? There is no need for us to rush things,” the older vampire declared.

“I guess so,” his new acquaintance agreed. “I’ll think about it.”

“As you wish,” the brunet said as he clothed his upper body with the utmost delicacy.

Something struck a chord in the boy’s head. “Is it okay if I stay here until tonight, though? The sun’s out. I can’t expose myself to it.”

Lysander snickered, amused. “Why not? It’s not like I’ll _bite_ you or anything.”

“Surely you won’t,” Clemente giggled. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, my friend,” the man murmured softly, taking the other’s hand in his and caressing it absentmindedly as he stared into his eyes.

The teenage individual looked down at their hands, a coy blush creeping on his face. He remained silent, for a lack of a good response.

“How about some sleep? You look like you might need it,” his host proffered.

Clemente beheld his face. “It doesn’t sound all that bad.”

“Make use of my bed, then. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything…” His elder halted his speech shortly, as if lost in thought. “…dear.”

The boy watched him leave the room. As soon as he saw the twin doors being closed from the adjacent room, he directed himself to the canopy bed and let himself surrender to slumber.

“For the last time, Castiel, I permitted him to stay in my room and sleep! He didn’t break in, good lord!” Lysander couldn’t stress his current how annoyed he was with his companion, whom kept going on and on about how his guest could either be a threat or a burden. The primer insisted Clemente was not any of the two.

He put the key in the right heavy door’s keyhole as he wished to pay his new friend a visit. When he turned the door handle, what he found—or wished he had—was to his dismay.

Clemente was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter!! It's been long since I posted the last chapter, I know. But what can you do? Writer's block strikes at the single most inconvenient times.  
> Expect better in the later chapters!


End file.
